Goblinopolis, The Tol Chronicles, Book 1 (23 page)

After a while he got pretty good at it, and even began to enjoy himself a bit. It was, if nothing else, a decent workout. He became so involved in the physical exertion part, in fact, that he totally failed to notice when the world around him changed, yet again. He didn’t become aware of it until his foot slammed into something that definitely wasn’t in the least ethereal. The substantial something gave him a bruise and a right nasty toe splinter.

Aspet grabbed at his injured metatarsal and removed the splinter with his teeth (goblins are much more flexible than they appear). He looked around for the source of the offending sliver and noticed for the first time that he was now inexplicably in very dense woods. The canopy of intertwined branches was so solid that it blocked most sunlight. Only the occasional fugitive sparkle filtered down through the overhead thicket to interrupt the heavy gray stillness of the forest floor. It smelled unexpectedly and incongruously foul.

He stood up and took in this latest panorama. There wasn’t much of one: the trees were too numerous to see more than a few meters in any direction. They were obviously very old trees, and hoar. They had enormous trunks and moss-encrusted bark of a kind he had never seen before. It was strangely reflective. He could catch glimpses of himself as he shifted position or walked past. More disturbing, though, were the fleeting glimpses of other people and things that were not actually there. At least, as far as he could
tell
they weren’t there. He was startled more than once by the apparition of a creature with tentacles or wispy wings approaching over his shoulder in the bark’s mirror image, only to spin in panic and discover that there was nothing visible in evidence.

Eventually Aspet grew accustomed to the irrational specters that appeared to be dogging his every step. The shiny bark held less and less of his attention as he concentrated on threading his way through the massive trunks toward some unknown destination. The air was gradually losing the stifling stagnant rotting vegetation odor that had been its major distinguishing feature since his sudden arrival in this fetid and festering forest. It was difficult to ascertain whether the air quality was actually improving, however, or simply that he was growing insensitive to the stench via acclimation. Whichever was the case, he was grateful.

• 9
  Focus.
  

He emerged from the forest abruptly. There was a narrow clearing, on the far side of which a massive barrier shimmered into existence as he approached. It seemed transparent, except that nothing was visible behind it, and stretched higher and further in either direction than he could see even while squinting. Every few seconds a vibrant jolt of random color shot through the structure. For the split second that the tincture was visible, he could make out vague scenes of crowded plazas, public ceremonies with cheering throngs, and other less easily interpretable panoplies. Aspet scratched his head and sighed. He seemed to have been assigned his own personal Enigma Fairy, and one with a penchant for putting in overtime.

He stood and watched the spectacle for some minutes. It was impressive, enigma or otherwise. At times he almost thought he caught glimpses of people or places he recognized, but the visions were so fleeting that he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t merely his imagination at work. He realized he was looking at the world’s—possibly the universe’s—largest cinema screen. He couldn’t honestly say much for the plot, but the camera work and effects were compelling, especially given that cinema was still in its infancy in Tragacanth.

Aspet didn’t see any way to go forward or much point in retracing his steps, so he sat down with his back against a tree and stared at the barrier itself, rather than at the images moving periodically across it. It was smooth and featureless on first inspection, but as he swept his glance back and forth across one particular area something geometric caught his eye. It disappeared utterly during the color flashes, but in the interval between them it seemed as though he could make out a vague rectangular outline, about a meter above ground level and slightly to the left of his position.

He stood up and walked toward it. As he approached to within five meters or so of the wall, however, the intensity of the images suddenly increased and the color flashes came much more quickly, to the point that they were almost continuous. He lost track of the anomaly in the heady visual overload. He backed up until the strobing returned to its former tempo and recalibrated. He scanned the barrier until he located the rectangle once more, memorizing its position relative to his own by triangulating it against distinctly-featured trees. Once more he approached the wall.

This time Aspet forced himself to ignore the light show and focus on the spot where he’d seen the outline, glancing back at the forest every so often to verify his targeting. He reached out and touched the barrier for the first time. The color and light seemed to flow through him like electricity; the images burned themselves directly into his brain. He jerked away involuntarily and stood for a moment, disoriented, temporarily blinded, and gasping for breath.

When his vision and composure had returned, he retreated a few steps and stared at the spot where he’d made contact. The rectangle was now plainly visible, outlined in black as though a door leading into a darkened room had been pushed open a few millimeters.

It was the closest thing to an exit from this place he’d seen, so pursuing it further seemed the logical course. Trouble was, he didn’t think very much of the idea of coming in contact with that barrier again. It was just too much for even his sack-of-bricks goblin physiology to handle. He looked around and remembered that there was a forest only a few meters away. Aspet disappeared into it and reemerged a minute or so later carrying a limb-sized limb.

He broke off the smaller branches and twigs until he had a manageable tool not completely unlike a meter-long section of staircase bannister. Approaching the barrier somewhat cautiously, he moved the limb into position and jabbed it at the center of the embryonic opening. At once he was hit full force by the same sensory overload blast as before. Obviously the native timber was not a good psychic insulator. He stepped back and tried throwing the limb at the door. It simply bounced off, scattering bark in all directions. The bark pieces shattered on impact, like fine glass. They made a loud crunching noise when Aspet walked over to pick up the log and have another go.

• 9
  Resourcefulness.
  

Several minutes and quite a few heaves later he’d made some small progress, but he could tell it wasn’t going to get him an open door any time soon. The only thing he could think of to do was to go back into the forest and look for a larger battering ram. He turned toward the trees and took three steps before a voice suddenly rang out. It was thin and ethereal, but quite clear nevertheless.

“Allow me to assist you, goblin.”

Aspet spun around to see a bipedal figure floating in the air near the door. It was less powerfully built than a goblin, and disturbingly smooth-skinned. The wraith pushed open the door with one hand and extended the other palm down, gesturing toward the resultant gap in the barrier. Aspet paused, and then approached the newly-created portal. He stopped short and stared up at it. “Thanks for the help, whoever you are, but how am I meant to get up there? Do I climb up and crawl through?”

“I suppose you could,” answered his benefactor, doubtfully, “But I’d recommend taking the stairs.”

“Stairs? There aren’t any stairs.”

“Yes, there are. You just can’t see them. Over here.” He pointed to a spot about two meters to the right of the door.

Aspet walked over, a little skeptical, but the skepticism evaporated painfully when his shin banged into something hard.

“I
told
you there were stairs here.” The spectral voice sounded annoyed.

Aspet stood on one leg for a moment, rubbing his sore shin. “So you did. Silly me for doubting that there were invisible stairs leading up to a mysterious door in a giant cinema screen that blasts passersby with psychic jolts. It’s so obvious to me now.”

“Well, at least your sense of sarcasm is intact,” replied the visitor wryly. “That’s good. I suspect you’ll need it in the future.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing and everything.”

Aspet rolled his eyes. “I
hate
it when people answer my questions with smekking riddles.”

“Sorry. It’s the nature of the beast, I’m afraid.”

“What sort of beast would that be? And while we’re at it, who
are
you?”

“I’m your doorman. Your escort, as it were, to the other side.”

“The other side? What, am I dying now? “

“No, no, I merely meant the other side of the barrier. Through the doorway.”

Aspet let out a tiny sigh of relief. “Well, noble escort, have you a name?”

“I have several names. Were you looking for any one in particular?”

This was beginning to get annoying. “How about I just make one up? I’m thinking ‘Captain Evasive’ fills the bill pretty well.”

“Ooh, a promotion. Now I’ll have to upgrade my doorman’s uniform.” He shimmered a little brighter for a moment, but not long enough for Aspet to make out any real details. “If it will make you more comfortable, you may call me Plåk.”

Aspet considered for a moment. “No, I don’t think that would make me feel any more comfortable. I’ll stick with Captain Evasive.”

Plåk chuckled. It was a very strange sound, like hearing the wind laugh. Aspet found it even more unsettling than his ghostly appearance. “Knock that off, will you? You’re giving my goosebumps the creeps.”

“Very well, goblin. Now, ascend the stairs and pass through the door. Try to avoid coming in contact with the barrier itself, though.”

“Yeah, I think I can groove on that,” answered Aspet, “My last couple of encounters were something less than pleasant. By the way,
my
name is Aspet.”

The strangely spooky sound of spectral giggling filled the air once more. Aspet shook his head and tromped (carefully) up the stairs. He collapsed himself into as narrow a profile as a well-fed goblin can present and inched carefully through the doorway, trying his very best not to touch any piece of the barrier as he inched. Rather than a simple portal through a narrow wall, however, Aspet found himself facing a corridor that stretched off into distant grayness.

He stepped into the passageway a little hesitantly. Nothing happened. He walked a few more steps and jumped when the door closed behind him. He resisted the urge to grapple with the knob for a couple of reasons: first, he didn’t want to take a chance of experiencing those visions again; second, there wasn’t any knob.

The hall was dark, but not pitch-black. It seemed wide enough for several goblins to walk abreast, not that there were any other goblins around to test that hypothesis. He was alone, as usual, which made him a little irked when he remembered what Plåk had said. “
I am your escort to the other side
,” muttered Aspet bitterly, “Some escort.”

“I beg your pardon?” came a voice from the direction of the ceiling, “I believe I’m doing a perfectly marvelous job. You haven’t gotten lost yet, have you?”

“Lost? In order to be lost, presumably one must first be found. That’s not a condition with which I’ve been afflicted in quite some time, so no; I suppose you couldn’t really call me
lost
.”

“Ah, see? I’m a stalwart escort. I’ll have you there in no time.”

“Where, if I may ask without regretting it, is ‘there?’”

“Tragacanth. Your home.”

• 9
  Determination.
  

Aspet was silent for a moment, taken aback by the linear reply. “Just when I’m all set for some circular logic or oblique riddle, you have to go and give me a straight answer.”

“I’m simply jam-packed with surprises. Like this one, for example.”

Without warning, the floor of hall dissolved into liquid and Aspet found himself vigorously treading water.

He sputtered and jerked his head around this way and that, looking for Plåk. “Hey, Captain Evasive! You don’t happen to have a boat handy, do you?”

Ethereal laughter floated across the water, but this time it was more of a slightly evil chuckle. “I’m afraid I’m not that sort of captain,” Plåk answered, “Fortunately for you, it isn’t far to the shore.” Aspet found the concept of a hallway having a shoreline a little difficult, but he was grateful when after a moment of scanning that very topological feature hove into view. He made for it, splashing madly with the peculiar, rather violent, swimming stroke favored by goblins, the gob-smack. A few seconds later he pulled himself panting onto the slippery, slimy, vaguely malodorous beach mud.

As the viscous muck drained slowly from his ventral scales, Aspet huddled on the water’s edge and spoke to the circumambient air. “So, you’ve stalwartly guided me into a river and now a meadow full of mire. I can hardly wait to see what new and execrable destination awaits me next. Forgive me if my recent trauma has created some false memories, but I seem to recall some mention being made of Tragacanth.”